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bookgeekgrrl · 5 days

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My media this week (26 May-1 Jun 2024)

Lady Parts are BACK and I am beyond delighted!

📚 STUFF I READ 📚

🥰 The Red House Mystery (AA Milne, author; Simon Hester, narrator) - a really entertaining golden age detective story. Genuinely sad he only ever wrote the one.

😊 Someone who cares (Just_my_latest_hyperfixation) - cute, entertaining single dad Steve/nanny Eddie fic

😐 Strange Medicine: Dr. Maxwell Thornton Murder Mysteries (S.C. Wynne, author; Matt Haynes, narrator) - p much a standard but entertaining cozy in thoroughly fictional small town. Until the surprise fatphobia in the epilogue! And the epilogue was literally just setting up the next murder so it was TOTALLY SKIPPABLE! I wish I'd known bc I would have just stopped and not had my mostly pleasant experience tainted. I do have to say that the narration was really stellar on this, doing a great job with the buttoned-up, tense voice for Maxwell and the relaxed drawl for Royce

💖💖 +102K of shorter fic so shout out to these I really loved 💖💖

What’s Your Order? (JJK) - 9-1-1: Buck/Tommy, 18K - "5 Times Buck Guessed Tommy’s Coffee Order + 1 Time He Didn’t Have To"

eight ways to say i love you (middyblue (daisyblaine)) - 9-1-1: Buck/Tommy, 8K - "Homemade tomato sauce; a team barbecue; a drunk dial; getting ready to meet the parents; a basketball sub; sex; oranges; a stolen sweatshirt. Whatever he’s feeling, he doesn’t need to put a name to it right now. He can keep an eye on Evan’s tomato sauce and enjoy dinner with him and cradle this warmth in his chest until they’re ready to say it out loud."

📺 STUFF I WATCHED 📺

The Brokenwood Mysteries - s10, e5

Thousandaires - s1, e1

D20: Misfits & Magic - "Class Conflict" (s10, e2)

D20: Adventuring Party - "True Facts About McDonald's Apple Pie" (s5, e2)

D20: Misfits & Magic - "Family On Six" (s10, e3)

D20: Adventuring Party - "Wet Fire (and Bad News Brooms)" (s5, e3)

D20: Misfits & Magic - "We're The Heroes" (s10, e4)

D20: Adventuring Party - "That's The Squad" (s5, e4)

D20: Misfits & Magic - "Misfits and Magic Holiday Special" (s10, e5)

Doctor Who - s1 (series 14), e4-5

We Are Lady Parts - s2, e1-6

🎧 PODCASTS 🎧

⭐ What Next: TBD - Why Hospitals Keep Getting Hacked

Re: Dracula - May 26: Count Me in Every Time

⭐ Working - A Classic Opera Gets an Overdue Update

WikiHole - Saving Private Ryan (with Jason Mantzoukas and Paul Scheer)

Re: Dracula - May 28: Despair Has its Own Calms

Pop Culture Happy Hour - Terrible but bingeable TV shows

The Allusionist - 195. Word Play 5: 100 Pages of Solvitude

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Canada Obscura: The Feral Horses of Sable Island

Shedunnit - Dylan's Whodunnits

Shedunnit - Bonus: Poets, Politics and Popularity

99% Invisible #352 - Uptown Squirrel [update]

Vibe Check - Your Fate Has Been Decided

⭐ Code Switch - White evangelical Christians are some of Israel's biggest supporters. Why?

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Canada Obscura: The Giant Orange Sphere

Pop Culture Happy Hour - We Are Lady Parts rocks with bracing honesty and nuance

Consider This - How these newly included MLB stats recognize the legacies of Black players

Twenty Thousand Hertz+ - Nursery Rhymes

Ologies - Anagnosology (READING) with Adrian Johns

Short Wave - A Silky Shark Named Genie Swam 17,000 Miles, a Record-Breaking Migration

Re: Dracula - May 31: New Scheme of Villainy

NPR's Book of the Day - Two books trace the social and historical impacts of food

Dear Prudence - I’m 39 and in Love With a 67-year-old. I’m Concerned About Judgment From Others. Help!

⭐ Pop Culture Happy Hour - Best Fictional Bands And What's Making Us Happy

Endless Thread - SwordTube, En Garde!

t's Been a Minute - Is it time to re-name "summer?" Plus, prom fashion is all grown up

⭐ Slow Burn - Gays Against Briggs | 6. The Murders at City Hall

⭐ Slow Burn - Gays Against Briggs | 7. Turn Around. Fight Back.

Welcome to Night Vale #249 - Rifts

Welcome to Night Vale - Bonus Episode: Behind the Scenes (May 2024)

Hit Parade - The Bridge: Girl Groups (Lindsay’s Version)

🎶 MUSIC 🎶

Bonnie Raitt Radio • Chill

Pop Radio • Upbeat • 1970s

Shaun Cassidy radio

The Partridge Family radio

Pop Radio • Romance

We Are Lady Parts (Music From The Original Series - Seasons 1 & 2)

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fluffydancer618 · 1 year

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15 Questions 15 Tags

Tagged by: @pencil-case-watches thx

Nickname: Fluffy

Height: 157.5cm

Last Thing I Googled: ... *sobs* "if i throw it back is it fast enough plankton meme"

Song Stuck in My Head: N-Nightcore of Just Dance by Lady Gaga,,,

Number of Followers: Have no idea actually, give me a seco- What do you mean it's 848.

Amount of Sleep: It's either 4-5 hours or all 14, nothing in between. And no matter which option my organism choose, I'm always tired like I didn't sleep at all

My Dream Job: Working at romanticized flower shop would be nice, methinks <- doesn't know shit about flowers

Wearing: Black sweatshirt and sweatpants of the same color

Book/Movie That Summarizes Me: I feel like I haven't watched/read enough stuff for this one but um- Welcome to Night Vale by Jeffrey Cranor and Joseph Fink

Favorite Song: You guys have only one favorite song? Damn. Well, from the ones that can actually be classified as songs, Honey I'm Home by Ghost

Aesthetic: Just a guy who likes black

Favorite Author: I don't read as much as I maybe would like to, but Neil Gaiman 👍

Fun Fact: I have a so called "Blood-Art Counter", which I use to count all my digital artworks with depiction of blood in any amount, shape and color. I started it in 2021 by going through my old art - and by old I mean like REALLY old starting from the time before I even got my first drawing tablet - and counting everything with blood there, then the same thing in more recent art and, well, was updating it since then. I keep it in my tumblr drafts. So, "How much is there?" you may ask... N̴o̸t en̵o̶u̵g̸h̸, next question.

Taggging: Anyone who wants to do it Ow<

#well that was fun #i need a tag for rambling

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teesmine · 2 years

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Welcome To Night Vale Sweatshirt For Men and Women | Teesmine.com

This sweatshirt is Made To Order. We use DTG Technology to print onto Front Welcome To Night Vale Sweatshirt.

Welcome To Night Vale Sweatshirt description:

8.0 oz., 50/50 cotton/polyester Reduced pilling and softer air-jet spun yarn Double-lined with matching drawcord (adult style only) 1×1 athletic rib knit cuffs and waistband with spandex Double-needle stitching throughout size: S,M,L,XL color:black,gray,white

Washing Instructions: – Please turn the sweatshirt inside out and wash it on a COLD cycle. – Do not use bleach or any fabric softener.

Please feel free to contact me, thank you for visiting!

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esrah-rah-rasputin · 3 years

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WAIT NO PLEASE DRAW SIMON

I’m not sure why he’d have a garden, but either way we can be sure he puts blood, sweat, and tears into maintaining it. Just usually not his own

Outfit Hat

[ID: Simon Stexberg, the alternate mirror version of Steve Carlsberg from Welcome To Night Vale, from the waist up. He has his hands on his hips, and is smiling proudly. There is blood splattered on his hands, forearms, and part of his overalls. He is wearing green corduroy overalls with “STREX™️” embroidered on the front, an orange sweatshirt, and a black baseball cap that has a three eyed smiley face on it and th caption “Have a nice end of the world.” /End ID]

#Can’t believe this exists #you and joyous are absolutely amazing to watch go back and forth about stuff #Simon strexberg #my art #Blood tw #drawing requests

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desertflowerbowling · 3 years

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[ID: A drawing from the waist up of Chad Bowinger from Welcome to Night Vale. He has light skin, faint freckles, brown hair, and dark blue eyes. His mouth is open as though he is surprised or annoyed by something.

He is wearing a baseball hat and a sweatshirt. The baseball hat is light gray and has the Night Vale eye logo on it, a dark purple eye design with a light purple circle in the center and a white crescent moon shape in the circle. His sweatshirt is dark purple with light purple drawstrings. His arms are crossed, covering part of the letters on his sweatshirt. The visible letters are part of an N, a V, and a C. (The full logo would be NVCR, standing for a Night Vale Community Radio.) Above the drawing of Chad is the word “Intern” and below is the word “Chad”. The artist’s signature is to the right of the drawing. End ID]

All right, first intern is done! Give it up for Intern Chad, everyone.

#wtnv #wtnv fanart #Ann doodles #my art #described #accessible fanart #chad bowinger #intern chad #wtnv interns #reblogs > likes #intern doodle series

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juno-but-not-steel · 4 years

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Tim Appreciation Week Day 5: Youth

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Pairing: Slight Jontim

Words: 827

Tim groaned and shoved his head deeper into his pillow. “Please don’t make me wake up,” he groaned, pulling the blanket over his head in an attempt to block out the blaring alarm clock.

Martin, his room mate, chuckled and poked him in the side. “Hurry up, Tim! We’re going to miss breakfast again!”

Tim groaned and turned over to face Martin, a pout on his face. “But 7:30 is way too early,” he groaned, making puppy eyes at Martin.

The other boy chuckled, and walked across to his side of the dorm. Tim watched him go. He had once had a crush on Martin, when he had first come to the Institute, but it had faded and now they were best friends.

Martin was shorter than Tim by about a foot. He had kind, deep brown eyes, the colour of melted chocolate. He always wore pastel jumpers, seemingly unaffected by the heat on the warmer days of spring and summer. He had soft blond curls, that at times made it appear that he had a halo. He smelled faintly of jasmine tea, and when he smiled, you would do whatever he asked. He belonged in a polaroid.

Tim groaned again and finally got up, stretching his long arms above his head and cracking his neck. He stumbled into the bathroom, vision still fogy with sleep. Stepping into the shower, he turned the water to the coldest possible setting. That would wake him up.

After his shower, he pulled on a Pink Floyd t-shirt and bleach washed skinny jeans. He pulled his dark, wet hair into a sleek ponytail and skillfully applied just a bit of eyeliner. He pulled on his checkered vans, slung his bag over his shoulder, and joined Martin at the door.

“Finally!” Martin exclaimed. “It’s been almost half an hour!”

Tim rolled his eyes and entered the hallway, locking their door behind Martin.

They sat at their usual table, some of their friends already there. Melanie sat next to Daisy, and Jon was across from them. Tim sat next to Daisy, and Martin sat beside Jon.

Daisy was a year above Tim, but didn’t mind hanging out with the underclassmen. She had close cropped brown hair, and always wore a strange combo of NYPD sweatshirts, ripped black jeans, and blood red combat boots. It was a different style, but Tim couldn’t say he hated it.

Melanie was in the same year as Tim. She had honey coloured skin, pastel pink braids, and eyeliner so sharp it could kill. She usually wore dark leggings, trainers, and homemade crop tops of supernatural/horror tv shows. Today’s feature was American Horror Story.

Jon was also in Tim’s year, but they had just met at the beginning of this one. He had dark olive skin and dark silky hair, which was odd, because Tim knew for a fact that Jon hardly ever brushed it. Jon usually wore old, dull clothes slightly too big for him. The second hand look was purposeful, people’s eyes slid right over him. He cleaned up quite nicely, Tim recalled. He had once seen Jon in a suit, leaving campus for a family member’s funeral.

It was then that Tim realized that he quite fancied Jon. That was about two months ago, and the feeling still hadn’t left.

Tim forced himself to take a bite of his bagel and look away.

“What classes do you guys have today?” Tim asked, trying to distract himself.

“I’ve got Lit with Lietner,” Daisy provided.

“That sucks,” Tim sympathized. “That guy’s a nutcase.”

“I don’t know, I rather like him,” Jon said thoughtfully. “He has some interesting opinions on Shakespear.”

“Like that one where his actors actually became their characters on stage?” Tim snorted.

“He makes a good point! They looked completely different on the stage than they did in regular life!” Jon insisted, completely seriously.

“It’s called makeup, Jon,” Georgie said, sitting down next to Melaine, her girlfriend.

Jon got quiet after that, mumbling to himself about how it wasnt that sophisticated back then.

Georgie chuckled and gave Melanie a quick kiss, settling down. She had dark brown skin, and wore her dark hair in a small afro. She, like Daisy, typically opted for sweatshirts. However, hers were typically of odd podcasts, like the American one Welcome to Night Vale. She usually wore skinny jeans and trainers as well.

“Well, I’ve got history today, and am not looking forward to it,” groaned Tim.

“That’s Robinson still, right?” Daisy asked.

“Yeah,” Martin snorted. “Thought she would have died by now.”

The whole table gasped and laughed.

“Martin,” Jon wheezed, tears almost coming out of his eyes.

“What? We were all thinking it!”

The bell rang, and they all stood up.

“See y’all later!” Tim shouted over his shoulder, heading out towards his first class.

“Wait! Tim!”

Tim turned and saw Jon running up to him.

“Our class is together, remember? Wanna walk together?”

Tim smiled. “Sure.”

I’m considering making a whole fic out of this, but from Jon’s POV. Lmk what y’all think and if you would want to read that!

#the magnus archives #tma #jonathan sims #tma podcast #tma jon #jonny sims #jon sims #jontim #timappreciationweek #timothy stoker #tma tim #tim stoker

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blackmarketbicycle-blog · 7 years

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Some loot I made out with today. Thanks to everyone who said happy birthday

#thanks karyn #i love you #all of the sweatshirts #they are both so soft #and the cards are so fun the art is amazing #i love them #awolnation #these earrings are my babies #tarot #welcome to night vale #wtnv #cards #bees?#mostly void partially stars #mermaid #my post

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doctortreklock · 5 years

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Do You Possess a Piece of Time? - August 21, 2019

Part of my Resolution19. Read it on AO3.

Prompt: Person A has given up on love. Nope. Love is not for them. Forget that…. And then they meet person B and think; “Annnd this is the asshole who will ruin everything.” (x)

Fandom: Rivers of London

Title: "Do you have a moment? Do you possess a piece of time? Do you physicalize abstract concepts and keep them to yourself?" Welcome to Night Vale twitter, 17 Jan 2014

Words: 1349

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It's not as if Thomas had set out to dismiss love entirely from the beginning. No, that would have been simply absurd, not to mention short-sighted. When he had been a boy he could barely tell his left shoes from his right, completely too young to decide anything of the sort.

The decision had come later, much later. In fact, it hadn't really come about until after a series of horrific failures, the likes of which Thomas tried very much not to think of, for fear it would turn his mother spinning in her grave.

He had been fourteen, after all, when he had first decided to test his mettle against this whole "love" nonsense that English poets always put so much stock into. He had been home from Shrewsbury for the summer and his mother, bless her soul, had encouraged him to spend time out of doors, perhaps with the gardener's son, or perhaps the boys down the way. It had been Rupert Dance, home from Harrow, who had taught Thomas what it meant to kiss a boy and mean it.

He had been fifteen when he had come home to find Rupert Dance utterly besotted with the greengrocer's daughter. Eloise Blissett had taught Thomas how it felt to have your heart broken by someone who never knew you were actually serious about the whole thing, poor lad.

Now, Thomas was of good English stock and he took that to heart. It meant that you always paused for teatime and never let on how much someone hurt you, so he stiffened his upper lip and carried on. He determined that regardless of the way Rupert's kisses had quickened his heart, there must be something to the idea of women, else Eloise wouldn't have garnered such attention.

He was sixteen when a hastily aborted venture with Margaret Brown taught Thomas that no matter what other men might think of women, the entire notion was very much not for him, thank you very much.

He had taken a brief sabbatical from romance for the remainder of his time at Shrewsbury, much to the dismay of his mother, who had become rather over-hopeful when Ms. Brown had entered the picture. Uni, he determined, would be different.

Uni, it was determined, was not really all that different. For one, most of the same boys were now reading Economics and History right along with him. Much like Thomas, the other young men skipping classes were also destined to take their father's place in the Home Office and marry a young woman of good family to the delight of their mothers. Unlike Thomas, however, most of them seemed to be looking forward to it, as long as their destinies could be put off for a year or five, there's a chap.

Unfortunately for Thomas's mother, he really wanted as little as possible to do with either the Home Office or young women of good family.

Fortunately for Thomas, in the spring of his second year at Cambridge, he met David Mellenby.

Mellenby was reading Chemistry and his greatest ambition was to join the RAF. Thomas was instantly smitten. Mellenby was exactly everything his mother did not want him to associate with: a man who was not inclined toward quiet civil service and wanted to fly jet aeroplanes. Now, regardless of how his mother might have seen the situation, Thomas did not associate with Mellenby strictly due to his "unsavory" characteristics, no. In fact, Thomas spent a great deal of time with David Mellenby because when he bent over his chemistry notes his hair fell in his face and when he talked about flying his eyes lit up and when he smiled at Thomas, Thomas very firmly believed that if he did not kiss David Mellenby he would have a heart attack.

Mellenby kissed him. Thomas did not have a heart attack. These two events are not strictly related.

Thomas spent two years kissing David Mellenby and not having heart attacks. When the pair graduated, Mellenby reiterated his plan to join the RAF. Thomas's mother reiterated her insistence that he join the Home Office. Thomas decided that despite his mother's best attempts, a quiet life of civil service and marrying a young woman of good family was never in the cards for him. He joined the RAF with Mellenby instead.

The Royal Air Force taught Thomas how to fly and Mellenby taught Thomas how to fall. Then a crash during a training exercise in Germany taught Thomas the way grief and horror can catch in your throat and choke you, the way a leg twisted with scars can send you home, and the way the crumpled remains of a charred helicopter can lurk behind your eyelids and wake you screaming from a dead sleep.

Thomas's mother wasn't quite sure how to best help her son after his discharge. She took him to his medical appointments and held his hand and when he decided to join the Home Office, she took her victory with grace.

Thomas worked and moved into his own flat and built a life for himself, bricking up the holes where he had once imagined Mellenby standing. When his mother got sick, he took her to medical appointments and held her hand and when she died he buried her in the family plot next to his father. The last thing she said to him was that she hoped he would be happy, and perhaps find himself a young man of good family to grow old with.

By this point in his life, Thomas had very much given up on the entire idea of love. He had tried it a few times, but it had never seemed to work out, and even when things had been going well, fate had intervened and left him with scars, nightmares, and an empty flat.

Yet, his mother had asked that he try, so Thomas dutifully dusted off his best suit and asked Hugh Oswald to dinner. Oswald had been a year behind Thomas at Shrewsbury and had read Biology at Oxford. He worked now doing something with bees and Hyde Park, but Thomas couldn't quite summon enough interest to keep the conversation going over dinner. Instead, they exchanged half-hearted comments on the menu and quietly decided to go dutch on the bill.

Enough, Thomas decided, was enough. His mother had meant well, but it was obvious that there was no place in Thomas's life for another person. Love was for children, after all, and he was well beyond childish things. So Thomas worked at the Home Office and lived comfortably alone in his flat and occasionally considered getting a cat and then never did. He had nightmares that became less frequent over time and a leg that required daily stretches and a cane that he forgot at home as often as he could. And he was happy. Well, as happy as a man like Thomas could be.

It was January when a young man in a Metropolitan Police sweatshirt moved into the flat opposite Thomas. He was perhaps a half-dozen years younger than Thomas with a bright energy about him and an insatiable curiosity. "Peter Grant," he introduced himself. "And I work for the Met, but as long as you don't actually tell me about any minor crimes you're committing, I think we'll get along fine."

He was the opposite of Margaret Brown in every way. He had only a passing resemblance to Rupert Dance. And he was just like David Mellenby in all the ways that mattered. He was young, and Thomas wasn't sure if his mother would have characterized the Grants as "good family," but they certainly weren't bad, not to Thomas's way of thinking.

And when he turned to Thomas and asked if he wanted to get coffee sometime? Thomas opened his mouth, his knee-jerk "No, thank you" at the ready, when he realized abruptly that while he may not have thought there was room for love in his life, there certainly seemed to be room for Peter Grant.

Oh, he thought. Oh no.

#Resolution19 #Rivers of London #RoL #starlingale #david mellenby #mCD #thomas has a Tragic Backstory

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eulerami · 5 years

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Not Quite Old Times: Saints Row 2 Fic Troy x M!Boss, (Ignacio.) [Song Inspiration]

It was always raining in Stilwater.

Every time he looked, it seemed the waves would swell a bit more, swallowing some of the coastline, sinking a chunk of road or silted bank, until another piece broke off and took the better part of a block with it. The plains were eradicated, the fields muddy ditches, now rebranded as summertime getaways for unbeatable prices. Finally Stilwater became an island, isolated, alone--paradisaical, with all undesirable at the bottom of the lake. Yet all anyone complained about were their shoes getting wet.

It was ironic, perhaps a little disgusting-- yet there he sat, seat reclined, watching from a parking lot. The Arena District; way out here, across town. He’d come to watch the coast, same as every evening after a long day of doing the right thing.

The ignition was off, rain battered the windshield, and a few rogue droplets still managed to find their way through a cracked window. His fingers flicked the nub of a cigarette while he saw the waves ebb and flow, crashing mere feet from the sophisticated aesthetic, yet technologically useless, dams.

Across the canal was where it happened. The lights of the refurbished bridge shone foggy in the storm. It brought a grunt, as he turned his eyes down to check the contents of the Styrofoam cup in hand, lukewarm coffee halfway drained. It wasn’t that good anyway.

The quiet was welcome. A day of ringing phones and paperwork left his ears still ringing, and he found it pathetic in its own right that he was sore from it. He barely left that gilded office, only to find reprieve in a sketchy parking lot full of dumpsters and sputtering barrel-fires. Smirking, he took a long drag, exhaling through his nose slowly.

Yeah, that felt like home—at least for a few minutes.

He pushed his neck against the headrest, annoyed--despite the generous budget of their glowing benefactors, Ultor still couldn’t supply a car with substantial headspace, let alone leg room. He missed the days of low-rider muscle cars and midnights spent on the hood, watching the stars half-baked and rambling about the future. A dream or a facade, it didn’t matter.

In the passenger seat, a box of paperwork waited where someone wanting to spend the night with him used to be. Had six years really gone by so fast? The years piled on after a while, and then they were gone.

As he sighed again, tapping his knee against the door, he let his eyes fall closed to stifle the special sort of exhausted frustration he felt these days. To his left, however, somewhere out there in the storm, the shrill revving of a motorcycle grew louder. He cocked a brow, opening an eye only to peek through the windshield.

As quickly as he had, a motorcyclist shot by, body arched, head low in the night. Sitting upright, he grimaced, squinting through the dark. The cyclist spun out in the barren street, foot coming to catch, thick back tire skidding with a squeal.

They drove up to the parking lot, a long, methodical pace this time, before rolling to a stop. They seemed to lock gazes with him, out there at the edge of the street, from a face cast in hooded shadow. Overhead lights of closed businesses illuminated their silhouette in warm light, but they were still anonymous. Their hand flexed, the bike responded with a piercing roar of its engine, smoke kicking up behind the tire. “...a’ite, hotshot,” he muttered, sitting upright in his seat. He watched the cyclist, brow knitted, evidence that his souring mood would end up even more bitter before he got a chance to find his couch for the night. The figure in the distance goaded him, revving the gas, coming to burnout but stopping just short with a squeal of the tires. Finally, their hand went to the pocket of a thick sweatshirt, and brandished a pistol.

“Shit--!” Troy ducked under the dash, as a bullet pierced the hood of the car. Once, twice, two pops fired ringing in the night, deafened by the storm--an all-too familiar sound. He hissed between his teeth, raising tired eyes to the ignition, and turning the key. The red-blue lights blared on the cab, siren sounding. The cyclist revved again, foot forcing the sportbike into a circle before speeding off in the other direction.

His foot slammed the gas and the cruiser sped after the other, turning a corner into the empty highway. He accelerated, but the rain painted the other’s tail light as little more than a dull orb to follow. He squinted, the wipers doing jack to mitigate the storm, but he knew this town before the streetlights and levies, and no self-respecting race car had wipers. The sportbike bucked as it hit the dirt, the rider relying on their leg to steer it through the mud, as they crashed through a locked gate. Troy locked his jaw, now gaining ground, as his vehicle fared better than a motorcycle in the mud. Somehow, the cyclist still managed to go speeding up the dirt road through the mountain pass, twisting when needed to force a sharp turn through junk and soggy leaves.

“Where you goin’?!” He yelled to no-one, eyes never leaving the other, as trees and tall dynamited cliff walls blurred by. He was dragged out to the woods, spiraling around the bluff of Mt. Claflin. He nearly rammed the cyclist over the bumps of dirt road, as the bike ahead sped only to come to a slowing halt in the clearing.

Troy sat there, engine idling, white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel. A crash of thunder roared overhead, rain heavy and unrelenting, wipers in full speed. He waited a moment, turning off his siren but not the lights, and they flashed and shone over the wet bark of the surrounding forestry. The cyclist leaned over, kick-stand propped, as they dismounted. They turned to stare at him, yet again—soaked to the bone.

Troy reached for the radio, but didn’t dial. Instead his other hand found the gun at his belt, and without taking his eyes from the other, he opened the car door.

Several beeps, interior light, red and blue flashing. The pounding rain soaked his jacket in moments, cascading over the brim of his hat. He raised his chin—structured, disciplined.

“Put your hands where I can see ‘em,” he called, but his voice lacked conviction; those words meant little. He didn’t want to shoot this idiot, for no other reason than he wanted to be home. Hand resting over the gun, still standing behind the car door, he unclasped the snap. When the other didn’t move, hands lazily in their sweatshirt pocket, stance loose, he gritted his teeth. Pulling the gun, he aimed, one-handed and irritated.

“I said ‘hands up,’ shithead!” The other’s shoulders moved, as if they’d chuckled.

“¡Tanto tiempo sin verte, güero!”

He froze, eyes widening slightly. He squinted again to get a better look through the rain, confusion spreading across his face as his mouth twisted, “...Nacho?”

“That any way to say hello?” A coy, taunting head tilt in his direction brought Troy to exhale, his arm slowly lowering. Scowling now, he shuffled slightly, arm to his side.

He stood there, disgruntled, before exasperation laced his demand, “whataya want?”

“Just wanna’ talk; you don’t seem to know how to pick up a phone, so.”

Troy stared, indignant-- “You shot at me!”

“Got your attention.”

He scoffed, shaking his head, letting it hang. He re-holstered his gun, eyes settled in the mud. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he took a steady breath, before gesturing with annoyed urgency.

“Get’n the car.”

“Más vale que sea digno de mi tiempo--”

“Just shut up and do it, will ya?” He half-barked, voice cracking, twinge of desperation betraying the anger. Ignacio raised his hands in mock defense, but he did as he asked and closed the distance between them. Troy watched him go to the door, moving his box of paperwork to the backseat, muttering, “it’s open.”

Two car doors slammed, and silence.

Ignacio sat in the passenger seat with relaxed indifference, green eyes set ahead to the overlooking cliffs. He raised thick brows, turning his head to look at the other’s profile as he removed his hat, tossing it on the dashboard. The only sound was that of water dripping from their clothes onto the leather interior.

“...You look good.”

“Ha-ha, very funny.” Troy quipped, teeming with reproachful sarcasm, smoothing his hair back.

“I’m serious,” he said convincingly, but Troy still hissed between his teeth. “Never thought I’d see you in blue.”

“Yeah and I never thought I’d see your ass walkin’ again,” he retorted, “...let alone talkin’.”

“I guess I have you to thank for that, don’t I?”

Troy pulled a crumpled pack of smokes from his breast pocket, shaking his head lightly to himself again as he took one in his mouth. Finding the cheap lighter, he flicked it a few times, aggravated when it sparked uselessly. He opted instead for the dashboard lighter, Ignacio looking on in tense silence. “So…” he began, voice trailing off into rasp, patting his knees in fidgeting rhythm, “why’d you do it?”

“Do what?” Troy snapped, finally lighting his cigarette and taking a long drag. Ignacio shrugged, quiet, before looking up at him with genuine eyes.

“Save my life.”

Troy paused, seeing him there with his peripherals, face still obscured by the hooded sweatshirt. He exhaled, smoke wafting in the car’s cab, before he cracked a window and waved it away.

“...Why else?” He asked finally, incredulously, voice breaking again. “Call it habit, maybe. Whataya think I am, huh?”

“I’m not so sure what I think you are,” Ignacio responded coolly, slowly, expression calm and unwavering. “A liar, first-off.”

Turning to him, he got his first good look at the other since he last saw him lying there in a hospice bed. Scarred face from chemical burns, scarred neck from a 6-year-long tracheostomy. His eyes were unchanged, fiercer, but the same as he remembered. He felt his own fierceness soften.

“Yeah, alright.” Troy answered with a defeated tone, turning away again. He continued to puff on his cigarette, before squinting angrily at nothing. “You here to kill me? You wanna’ try that? Ask Gat how that went.”

“No need to get touchy,” Ignacio shook his head, “Just here to talk.”

“About what?”

“What I asked you. Why’d you do it, seeing as you and Julius wanted me dead and all—“

“That isn’t true,” Troy slapped his hand down on the center console, turning to him abruptly. Pointing, cigarette in hand, “I had nothing to do with that—I was pissed and terrified, Nacho, what the fuck do you think—“

“So it isn’t true, then.” He interrupted loudly, tone skeptic and taunting. “You weren’t in on it? You didn’t know how he planned to disassemble the Saints and sell us out? You probably didn’t know about the bomb either, right?”

“Correct.” He replied slowly, sternly, with a locked jaw.

Ignacio chuckled dryly, looking at the floor before glancing at him again. “Should’ve stayed a Saint, Troy; you’re a shitty cop.”

“Any other pearls of wisdom?”

Ignacio said nothing, simply blinking before tilting his head.

Troy’s lips formed a line, thoroughly exhausted, frustrated, and hurt all at once. He wanted to scream at him, he wanted to punch him too, probably, but he also was overcome with the worst of all--relief.

“You want answers? Fine,” he muttered, returning to his slumped position in his seat. Knees apart, head reclined, he smoked for a moment in silence while he tried to lower his blood pressure. “Don’t pretend that I don’t know why you brought me out here, a’ite? I remember this place. It’s yesterday for you, but it’s yesterday for me too. And I was awake the last six years.”

Ignacio remained quiet, simply raising his eyebrows as he reached to lower his hood, patting down his dampened hair. “It’s true that I knew Julius planned to disband the Saints, that was the plan from the get. What I didn’t know is that he planned for you to be the fall-guy for it, so he could fuck off to who knows where.”

“You don’t know where Julius is now?”

Troy shook his head, exhaling more smoke. He closed his eyes for a few moments, before continuing. “You took the fall for Julius, but here I was in the same proverbial boat for Monroe. Lucky for me, you got him before that could happen.”

“He what-now?” “Yeah, you missed all that. I’ll tell you about it sometime.”

Ignacio stared ahead, calculatingly a moment, before Troy interrupted the thought. “Point is, I thought I’d just have to arrest you. I didn’t want to do it, especially not after...we, well. You can believe that if you want, but it’s the truth. Julius took it further, knowing you’d never stop.”

“Damn right.”

He inhaled deeply again. “It was a real mess.”

Ignacio watched his face, before looking out at the storm again. He really couldn’t remember much, not even pain.

“I remember you visiting. TV on, you talkin’. Don’t remember what you were sayin’, though.” “Huh?”

He smirked, shaking his head. “Yeah, it’s weird.” His shoulders slumped, and he reached for the seat lever, adjusting it and reclining. He stared at the interior light, looking over at Troy, who looked back in confusion. Ignacio outstretched his arm, and plucked the cigarette from his lips, bringing it to his own. It was Troy’s turn to chuckle dryly, shaking his head and looking at the roof of the car too.

“...I knew you’d wake up.” He murmured. “The first year...was the hardest.”

“You’re right about one thing; it is still all yesterday for me. Even sitting out here, even with that eyesore.”

Troy turned his head, glancing at him, and then to the Ultor Pyramid in the distance, bright as ever. “Real weird hearin’ you say that.”

“I got a lot to say.”

“I couldn’t even get a peep outta’ you back then, now you won’t shut up.”

Ignacio smirked a bit, scratching his beard. “Depended on the situation.”

“A-ha, yeah, don’t get cute.”

“What was this, anyway?” He gestured between them, “A way to pass the time?”

“Jesus, Nacho—“

“I get it, at least be fuckin’ honest about it.”

“What do I have to do to prove myself at this point, huh? What do you want from me? You really think all the stunts you get away with are all on your own merit? I keep my guys, the FBI, the news, off your nuts on a daily basis. And here you are asking me if—if it was—uh,” he searched for the word in his frustration, “...real.”

“That’s right.”

“Christ,” he sighed, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Why’s it so hard to say?”

“Because I don’t know, alright? I don’t know. I was under a lot of fuckin’ pressure, walking a fuckin’ tightrope—“

“That tends to happen when you lie.”

“I didn’t have a choice!”

“Of course you did, and you’ve made them. So have I.”

Ignacio sat up, taking another drag of the cigarette before holding it between his lips. He started to raise his hood again, as Troy watched him with conflicted eyes.

“I ain’t gonna bother you. But, don’t fuck with me, or my Saints.” He reached for the door handle, as Troy sat up quickly.

“Wait a minute—“

“We’re done here.”

Troy grabbed his sleeve abruptly, forcing him to turn. Ignacio tensed, fists balled, but Troy took hold of his face, yanking him forward, before gripping the back of his neck sharply, pulling him somewhat over the center console.

Still stronger than he looked. “I watched you lay in a bed for six years, with everyone in my ear tellin’ me you were done for, a waste of time, a waste of money. I dragged your bloody-fuckin’-body out of the water when half’ur face was hangin’ off. I had to sit there with the life drainin’ out of you on the fucking cement, you get me?!”

Ignacio’s lips parted to speak, but Troy’s fingers flexed angrily, “shut the fuck up a minute, huh? You have no idea what I’ve been through to keep you breathin’. You have no idea what it did to me to see you like that. You think I wanted any of this? Someone has to take responsibility and abide the red tape, otherwise, all of it was--...was for nothin’.”

Ignacio stared into his eyes, dark and tired, but the spark of who he remembered still clear behind them. He dipped his chin slightly, eyebrows furrowed, eyes piercing and challenging.

“You really want to play this game?”

“No,” he spat, voice tight. “no I don’t.” His eyes darted between each of his, brow quivering, before he lowered his head. His grip loosened, as Ignacio’s shoulders relaxed, but only slightly. A long shuddering breath left his nose, as he closed his eyes, feeling the familiar sting. “I don’t care what you do.” His hands left him, trembling, unsure if it was rage or...something else. “It’s over for me. It ain’t for you.” “Estas son chingaderas--” “Eh, ha—I have no idea what that means.”

“Fine.” A gloved hand rose, flicking the stolen cigarette out the window. He took hold of his jaw, Troy opening his eyes, startled. “Good thing I don’t believe that.”

He leaned forward, lids heavy, before pressing his lips to his. A sense of familiarity washed over him, for the first time since he awoke to find his home a reformed metropolis. Everyone in it had changed, moved on, forgotten him and what he was—what he stood for, what so many had bled for. This was his city--it was free under him and his Saints. Even Johnny was oddly...domesticated, matured. The whiplash lingered, an obscure vertigo only he knew.

All save for one.

Troy’s fingertips found his arms, as he tilted his head, deepening their kiss with exhausted reprieve. Nostalgia seared his heart, and brought a lump to his throat he couldn’t force down. Yet, he was overtaken in the smell of rain and smoke, and for a moment, reclaimed his youth he’d left behind.

They parted only for breath, some odd suspension of time. Ignacio felt his forehead press against the other’s, and with a light inhale, his fingers toyed with his hair, and stroked the nape of his neck. A semblance of reality, something present to remind him it wasn’t all a dream.

Troy’s eyes squeezed shut again, before he opened them, glossy and pained.

“I...missed you,” he finally managed, choking out his words. “You don’t know how...how damn hard it’s been, I—“

“It’s all gonna’ change now,” Ignacio told him quietly, “I’m gonna’ retake this city and make it right.”

Troy exhaled slowly, breath catching in his throat before he leaned away slightly. “You can’t go around so carelessly, Nacho, these people, Ultor, they’re bad news man—“

“I ain’t scared.” He told him, thumb coming to stroke his cheekbone. “I don’t want you worryin’ about it right now.”

He let out a heavy sigh, hand raising to rest atop the other’s, before meeting his gaze again.

Ignacio’s lips formed a slight grin, eyes peaceful, yet an undertone of mischief. “...Y’know, this ain’t my Bootlegger. Not much room in here.”

“Yeah,” Troy half-sniggered, letting his head hang, and press into Ignacio’s shoulder, “tell me about it; I bang my head on the door all the time.”

“We could...go someplace?”

“You actually have a house these days? Your car’s gotta’ feel so betrayed.”

“As a matter of fact,” he muttered proudly, brow quirking. “I don’t think you’d wanna’ be seen out that way, though.”

“I happen to have an apartment in Barrio.”

“Really?” He looked at the other in playful disbelief, a brow raising. “Chief of police lives in the Barrio?”

“Yeah, wanted to uh...well, be nearby, I guess. Your hospice was down the road a bit. ...That, and the food’s great.”

Ignacio silently laughed once,“...I guess I owe you an apology.”

Troy leaned up, returning to his seat, peering at him with a somewhat sheepish expression before looking away.

“Eh,” he waved it off, “make it up to me.”

“Oh, I plan to.”

He exhaled through an embarrassed smirk, shaking his head as he ran a hand through his hair, pushing rogue strands out of his eyes. “What uh—what about your bike?”

Ignacio reclined in his seat, bringing his arms behind his head and relaxing. “I’ll call somebody to pick it up.”

Troy glanced at him, before nodding a bit, clearing his throat. “Well, alright then.” He turned the key, starting the car.

He pulled forward, before backing up and leaving down the dirt road. The downpour continued, darkening the night in pounding rain. Still, as they drove and they talked, crossing the bridge, reminiscing in hesitant, short sentences, the air was calm--despite the inevitable storm to come.

#This is kind of a crappy fic #But it's part of a much bigger idea I had #I just wanted to write something it's been like a year for me #sorry if it's rambly and weird #SR2 #saints row 2 #I did art but it's a bit much #I think it'll ruin the effect

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skir4y · 7 years

Quote

And while you’re there, consider clicking the donate link. It’s the future that liberals want.

Welcome to Night Vale Episode 104 - The Hierarchy of Angels

#wtnv #welcome to night vale #night vale #quotes #god im living for the stuff they've been slipping in #anyways I love night vale so much #it's like the one thing that'll stay shiny and comforting #also I wanna get a nvcc sweatshirt #probably not a thing but I want it to be #mine #podcasts

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villesims · 5 years

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21 questions thingie I was tagged by @pigeonhome to do!!! I tag anyone whooo wants to do it

Nicknames: dad, other assorted parental names, idk if anyone of here calls me something based off my blog name

Zodiac: Aquarius sun, Gemini moon, Leo Rising aka a mess

Height: 5’8” (little piece of shit boys) ((little mousy boys that live in the wall and crawl around for cheese))

Last Thing Searched: eboy eye roll

Favorite Musicians: hmmmm the altogether, foster the people (i have seen them live, it was fun), young the giant, queen, bad suns (might see them live with a friend maybe) many more

If you had a time machine would you go back in time or visit the future: I really dont like the idea of what time travel could mess up but if i had to future

Do I get asks: Not that often but I really come and go with how active I am

Following: idk around 200

Would you rather be rich or famous? rich by far, being famous sounds like a whole nightmare and if I had money I could get the things i need and also donate,,,,, it’d be lovely

Amount of sleep: usually more than 10

What I’m Wearing: A sweatshirt and penguin pj pants

Dream Job: park ranger but if i could do that without being a cop that would be the dream

Dream Trip: idk whered I go but a big ol road trip

If you were an animal, what would you be? penguin or a rat

What are some of your favorite books/films/shows/games/etc? all the welcome to night vale books are great, any mcelroy content, ummmm I recently read carry on by rainbow rowell and its very good and im patiently waiting for wayward son to come to my door,,,, lots of other books but idk what to recommend, any ghibli films

Play any Instruments? I played tuba for about 7 years and trombone a year and a half prior.

Language(s): English, and ive done two years of french

Describe yourself as aesthetics: soft, flannels, forests, candles, dad fashions,, shiny things,,,,

#about me #boy howdy

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retro-plasma · 6 years

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get to know me tag!!

i was tagged by my loves @maplestreetsims and @simgerale ❤️

nickname(s): corn, c gender: female sign: taurus height: 5′5″ time: 6:47pm birthday: may 1st favourite bands: mayday parade, a day to remember, taking back sunday favourite solo artists: halsey, vance joy, and probably some others but i’m bad at this song stuck in my head: girls like you (feat. cardi b) // maroon 5 last movie I watched: shit idek.......... i think last show i watched: beat bobby flay lmao when did i create this blog: almost two years ago omg what do i post: my story twenty questions, and v occasional edits what did i last google: other blogs: my personal is @p-apercrane if anyone wants to follow (but i’m rarely on it lmao) do i get asks: v rarely why did i choose this url: i liked the way it sounded lmao following: 325 followers: 1029,,,,,, i’m in shock honestly ily all so much i’m trying to whip up a gift for yall average hours of sleep: 3-12 bc i’m an inconsistent bitch Lucky number : idk tbh i always go to station 3 at work to start with and i always get it to run like a dream so maybe 3 lmao idkkkk instrument: i used to play both the violin and the clarinet but i hated both...... i wanna learn the guitar and the piano tho what am i wearing: black yoga pants and an eeyore sweatshirt lmao dream job: author!! favourite food: ummm my taurus ass has so fuckin many ya girl just likes to eat but my gut reaction was mac and cheese so there ya have it last book i read: o fuck i can’t remember the last time i actually read a whole book?? i just bought two more tho and one of them has lesbians so it’ll probably be alice isn’t dead by joseph fink (who’s one of the producers of the first podcast i really got into (welcome to night vale)) 3 favourite fandoms: @oasisable‘s entire fucking legacy, @bloomlet‘s entire fucking legacy (i’m so gay for cricket tbh), and @bratsims mei and garbage child wylie

i tag @oasisable, @xtinkersimsx (she’ll never do it tho who am i kidding), @lemonsimss, @bl-ckreject, @rivervieww, @jupiteroseindigo, @drohyu, @serensims, and anyone else who wants to do it!! just say i tagged you!!! also i’m sorry if i tagged someone who’s already done it pls just ignore me lmao

#tags #about me #non sims #corn.txt

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nightvaleintros · 5 years

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143 - Pioneer Days

[jntro]

Joseph Fink: Oh, I know, I know. You wanna show your love of Night Vale Community College, but up until now there hasn’t been a way to do that while staying warm at the same time. I have a solution to this common problem that I did not in any way just make up. We have new Night Vale Community College sweatshirts up in our store right now. Head over to welcometonightvale.com and click on “store”. We’re constantly adding new stuff to the store and getting rid of old stuff, so if you like something, get it before it or you is gone for good.

Finally, two important bits of live show needs. The first: we are having a special one-off Night Vale Presents live show at the Largo in LA on Saturday, April 27. This unprecedented show will have a rare “Within the Wires” live performance and a brand new “Alice Isn’t Dead” live show, yes the story is continuing. And finally, the first ever Faceless Old Woman live show, starring Mara Wilson. It’s going to be a creepy night.

Secondly, you should know that our latest live show, “A Spy in the Desert”, is out on the road right now. If you are in Austin, Houston, Dallas, Boulder, Albuquerque, Phoenix, Anaheim, San Fransisco, or Portland Oregon, come out and say hi. You don’t need to be caught up on the show, you just need to wanna have a good time in a theater. Tickets for all of those at welcometonightvale.com/live.

And hey, Thanks.

[intro]

Meg Bashwiner: Welcome to Night Vale is a production of Night Vale Presents. This episode was written by Brie Williams with Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Cranor and produced by Disparition.

The voice of Night Vale is Cecil Baldwin.

Original music by Disparition. All of it can be found at disparition.info or disparition.bandcamp.com.

This episode’s weather was “Vines” by Superboink. Find out more at superboink.bandcamp.com,

Comments? Questions? Email us at [email protected], or follow us on Twitter @NightValeRadio. Or watch Australian reality TV shows, because [heavy accent] everything is better in an Australian accent. I’m sorry.

Check out welcometonightvale.com for more information on this show and our live show, which is currently on the road right now. Come check us out.

Today’s proverb: The leading cause of death is having a body.

#WTNV intros #episode 143 #pioneer days #sorry it's late #i posted the transcript but forgot about the intros

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eldritchsurveys · 6 years

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o12.

Have you ever sold anything online either on Craigslist, eBay, Amazon, etc.? If not, what is your website of choice like any of the above for buying things? >> Nope. My website of choice for buying things is Amazon, I guess, just because it’s easy and they have so much shit. If the opportunity arose, would you ever go to a nude beach? Do you think you’d be comfortable enough, being naked among others like that? >> Yeah, I’d try it. I suppose it couldn’t be all that bad, if everyone else is nude too. Levels the playing field, and all. But I wouldn’t want to like... sit on stuff butt-naked. Like, that’s the main thing that bothers me about just walking around nude -- I don’t want to put my unprotected parts on stuff, bruh. So... yeah, I guess I wouldn’t stay long for that reason. At least let me put some bikini bottoms on or something, damn. What was the last book you read? What about the book drew you to want to read it (plot, title, cover…)? Did you end up liking it? >> Dune Messiah. What drew me to it is that it’s the second book in the series I’ve dedicated myself to reading, so it was just the logical progression. I did indeed like it. Have you ever considered keeping a dream journal? If you have one, have you ever looked back on it at all of the odd/interesting dreams you used to have? >> I try to keep one, but my dream recall is very sporadic and unpredictable. Sometimes I look back at what I do have, yeah. Do you think regifting is cheap, or is it okay? Have you ever regifted before? >> I wholly approve of regifting. I think it makes more sense to give something to someone who will actually use or appreciate it, rather than hanging onto something just because... what, someone gave it to me? Like, I appreciate being given the gift, because the thought really does count to me, but if I’m not going to use the thing, then why would I let this perfectly good object go to waste just collecting dust in the closet or something when I can give it to someone who’ll actually enjoy it???? LOGIC

How often do you wash your hair? What do you think when you hear of some people not washing their hair for weeks at a time? Is it healthier, as they claim? >> Every couple of weeks or so. --Well, seeing as I’m one of those people, I don’t think much of anything, because it’s normal to me. I don’t care, this is what works for me and I’m going to keep doing it until something else works better. Do you think President Obama should stay in office, or is it time for a new president? >> Damn, bruh. In general, do you like/get along with your mother’s or your father’s side of the family more? >> --- Have you ever seen an animal give birth? Have you ever had a pet give birth before? >> Yeah, and not my pet but my friend’s pet. I’ve also seen a cat eat its kittens! It was very enthralling. What do your plans usually consist of on Christmas morning? Are they the same this year? >> These past two Christmases I was at Sparrow’s parents’ house, and I guess the first time it was novel and exciting, but the second time I was way over the performative-ness and those people and just... blaaagh. But I assume I’ll be doing the same thing this year, probably day-drinking and trying not to talk to anyone. Do you like iPads/tablets or laptops more? E-readers or books? >> I mean, I use my laptops almost exclusively. And when it comes to books, I really don’t give a damn, man. I use both at my leisure. If you don’t get much snow where you live, do you wish you did get more snow? If you do get snow where you live, do you get a lot? Do you like snow? >> Enough snow falls in West Michigan that I am usually quite sick of it by March or so. Also, winter has a habit of outstaying its welcome to a depressing degree, so by May I want to die. LMAO. --In general, yeah, I like snow, but like... moderation, man. If men could get pregnant too, would abortion still be as big an issue as it is? >> Hm. What is something you want to try to accomplish within the next year? >> I’m not sure. Have you ever had to “come out” to your parents about anything (sexual orientation, change in religion, etc.)? How did it go? >> I tried to explain being trans to my father once, lmao. It was actually pretty funny, because I was like, explaining hormone replacement therapy to him, and he was just like “.... hunh.” Like I think he was mostly just confused, lmao. But I mean, in general, I’m an adult. I don’t have to tell him anything about my life if I don’t want to, so it’s not a big deal. Do you ever get drunk by yourself? >> Yeah. Who else am I supposed to get drunk with, besides the people in my head? But I’m mostly over getting drunk, anyway. I mostly just drink until the light buzz now, and then stop there. I’m still thinking about whether getting ritualistically drunk (with Wednesday, for example) is a thing I want to continue... I’m not sure yet. I think if I do, it’ll only be with specific drinks (like maybe this 1000 Stories wine, which I still think he put into my hand in the first place), to further emphasise the ritual boundaries and also to control it a little (liquor is temperamental and the delayed release doesn’t help either, but wine is easier to control). Has there ever been a time where you’ve forgotten something extremely important? >> I mean, yeah, sure. Describe the last time you were infuriated. >> Infuriated... I feel like the last time I felt that way was because of some bullshit in the PixelCount Discord. That’s why I left that shit, I got tired. What’s the most unusual kind of pizza you’ve ever tried? >> I’m not sure. If you were given the chance to decorate an entire house the way you wanted, with no limit to cost, how would you decorate it? >> I’d need some time to think about that. If you could have any kind of lava lamp, what kind would you have? >> Any kind? I’ve never had one at all. What movie do you know by heart? >> I used to know Labyrinth pretty much backwards and forwards, but my last rewatch was a long while ago. I need to get back on that train. I know the songs of The Prince of Egypt pretty well, and some of the dialogue. I used to be good with The Crow but it’s been a long time for that one, too. Has there ever been a time where you thought you were going to be great friends with someone, but it just never happened? >> I don’t think so. What’s one of your favorite things to touch/feel? >> Certain kinds of stuffed animal fur. How often do you wear tights? >> I don’t. If you had to choose, what’s the most important thing in your life at the moment? >> I don’t like to rank things like this. Do you have Netflix? >> I do. How much money would you have to spend before you felt really guilty about spending that much? >> Hell, I feel guilty about spending $2 at Redbox (”but I can just wait until it’s on Netflix, or pirate it!!! this is a Waste” shut the fuck up, goblin brain, life is short). Has there ever been anything you’ve become interested in much later than other people? >> Yeah, lmao. I’m kinda slow sometimes. Why is your favorite TV show your favorite? >> LOL I keep forgetting to mention Metalocalypse as a favourite, too, but man, my feels about that show are legion. I love it because it’s hilarious, but also because I really actually care about this silly fucking death metal band and their longsuffering manager and the Doomstar that will herald their ascension and... just everything. I love that show so fucking much and I miss it every day of my life. Grey’s Anatomy is my favourite because it really hits me in the feels, like... I don’t cry about a lot of things but I’ve cried at half the Grey’s episodes I’ve seen. It just really does humanity well... like, it has some of the most honest and compassionate writing that I’ve ever seen. It’s an utterly amazing and heartfelt and joyful and sorrowful show and I’m so glad I started watching it. Person of Interest is my favourite because... wow. Again, amazing writing, just amazing. Such complex and emotional characters, and the whole Machine thing is just... right up my alley, man. An artificial superintelligence learning to truly appreciate humanity for what it is, like... I don’t know. I don’t know. It hits me right in the gut. I still get choked up about the ending of that show. God. Describe your favorite picture of yourself, or post it. >> I don’t have a single favourite photo. Is there a genre of music that some people would be surprised that you enjoy? >> Probably not, if they know anything about me. Assuming you have a Facebook, if one of your friends posted things that annoyed you, would you be more likely to delete them as a friend, hide their statuses, or just put up with it? >> I’d hide their statuses for a while, but if it got so I was never looking at their page, I’d just unfriend them. What’s the point, then? Have you ever had a veggie burger? >> Of course. Do you like candles? >> Yep. What’s your favorite video game? >> Pillars of Eternity, Dragon Age, Elder Scrolls, Guitar Hero, the list goes on. What was something you liked about today? >> Fuckin H O T GATORADE, god. fucking... god. LMFAO. When was the last time you passed out? >> I don’t know. Do you think “friends with benefits” relationships could ever possibly work without anyone getting hurt? >> I’m sure someone’s gotten it to work. Like, it’s a big world out there. Do you wear more sweatshirts or jackets? >> Hoodies. What was the last thing you had to drink? >> I had like half a Backwoods Bastard. I didn’t even finish it, it’s still on my desk. When was the last time you wore a sports bra? >> The last time I went out. When was the last time you went to a water park? >> Never. Does your best friend live close to you? >> --- Have you ever rode a train? >> I’ve ridden many a train. Where did you get the shirt you’re currently wearing? >> I’m just wearing an undershirt. This Night Vale hoodie used to be Sparrow’s. When was the last time you played Rock Band? With whom? >> It’s been a while. I usually play Guitar Hero because the guitar controller is more compatible with it. There’s a slight difference in how shit registers on Rock Band that messes me up a lot, and I haven’t felt like dealing with it. But I miss the RB songs, so I might try to make it work at some point. Maybe I just need to calibrate my shit. What was the last thing that you ate? >> A pack of those Captain’s Wafers crackers. The peanut butter and honey ones, the best kind!!!! I’m so glad I finally found a Meijer that sells the boxes, goddamn, finally. Who last messaged you on Facebook? >> Uh... probably my cousin Kythe, with another fucking chain IM thing. I’m about to block her ass, lmfao. What were you doing Saturday at 1:30 pm? >> I don’t remember. The last time you were intoxicated, what were you drinking? >> Mango-pineapple vodka and orange juice. It’s so delicious, too, and that’s the fucking problem -- I drink it because it tastes good, and next thing you know... Who last walked you home? >> --- What do you do to help your face from breaking out? >> Wash it. It takes care of the rest on its own. Did you make any new friends lately? If so, what are their names and how did you meet them? >> --- Would you rather see your favourite band/artist in concert with 2 other people or have a free $20,000 shopping spree to Walmart? >> What on earth am I going to buy at Walmart for that much money, lmao... I’d rather spend that kind of money somewhere else, so I guess I’d take the concert. I’d choose a band that doesn’t come to the US often. >:3 When was the last time you went out to eat? >> When I was in Chicago. On a scale of 1-10, how anxious are you currently? >> Er... 1? What kind of music do you listen to? >> The audible kind. What does your perfect day consist of? >> Meh. Do you have any online friends? >> Whatever friends I do have are online. Would you dye your hair red? >> Sure. If your ex wanted to take you back, would you say yes? >> I mean, that’s basically what happened innit lmao :B How is the weather? >> I don’t know, mild, I guess.

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